


Beauty And Violence

by cassacain



Category: Wonder Woman (Comics), Wonder Woman (Movies - Jenkins), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Diana and Steve appear in Diana's memories, F/F, WonderCheetah, dianerva, my mix between WW84 and the comics, this is all about Diana and Barbara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29015067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassacain/pseuds/cassacain
Summary: The two times Diana and Barbara Ann met at Atlantiades’s pleasure-dome.Preview:Before she could finish the thought, Diana gave into the urge she’d been fighting and crashed into Barbara, pulling her into her embrace and pressing their lips together. Barbara kissed back with a ferocity that nearly knocked Diana off-balance, and suddenly she was tugging Diana’s long curls, pushing her backwards, taking an assertive role Diana had never previously associated with Barbara.
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman)/Barbara Minerva, Diana (Wonder Woman)/Steve Trevor
Kudos: 56





	1. Barbara & Diana

1.

Barbara Ann turned and saw Diana’s eyes on her, and even without the searing heat of her gaze she would have been breathless. She had noticed it for a while, but they hadn’t found themselves in a situation like this before, at Atlantiades’s pleasure-dome, a place peeled back from social graces and niceties (This is the ‘80s, for God’s sake, women didn’t look at each other _that_ way) where everything was raw and primordial and no one took a second thought…

Barbara had her own second thoughts. She turned from Diana’s gaze, missing the surprise on her face. She walked quickly over the smoothed, glazed stone, passing the bright fountain decorated with smiling nude statues, bearing moons. She felt increasingly agitated; everywhere she looked, naked bodies. People relaxing, chatting, milling about, either completely nude or wearing a tiny square of cloth that barely provided a tinge of modesty.

It was…shocking. Freeing, almost, but Barbara wasn’t past the part of her that clenched shut like a clam in response to these kinds of displays of freedom. She reached the white, vine-woven wall at the edge of the courtyard and rested her forehead against the cool stone. She placed a palm flat on the wall, feeling the balance of the solid stone and breathing evenly against it.

“Ann?” That lovely accented voice. Barbara always savored the way her name sounded on it. She turned, leaning her back against the wall and painfully aware of her nudity in front of Diana. Diana, of course, was so perfect that she looked painted. Constructed, as if she were merely put together for this moment. She had taken the nudity option, and Barbara’s only complaint was the extent of the effect it had on her. “You’re avoiding me…” There was a bit of hurt in Diana’s voice. For such an undeniably classy woman, she tended to be rather blunt about what she was thinking.

“I’m sorry,” Barbara said right away, her knee-jerk response, painfully stupid. She pinched the bridge of her nose, making her circle-glasses bounce up. “Sorry, I just—oh, geez, I keep apologizing.” She groaned a little at her own awkwardness.

Diana stepped forward, smiling gently. “You’re embarrassed?” She assessed.

Barbara chuckled. “I’m not exactly…used to all of this, you know? It’s very different, at least from what I’m used to.”

Diana nodded, understanding. “It seems the other members of our crew shared initial inhibitions. American culture is much more stringent about nudity than I am accustomed to. Yet, it seems the others have relaxed.”

Barbara searched the courtyard and saw that Barbara was right. The team that had accompanied them on this archaeological mission were all settling in; everyone of them easing into the situation, beginning to chat up the locals. Barbara was pierced with jealousy; how could she gently explain to Diana that she was the reason Barbara couldn’t relax?

Barbara shot Diana an apologetic gaze. She made a concerted effort to keep her eyes on her face. Slowly, Diana began to nod.

“I see. It is as I feared; the situation embarrasses you, but it is I that is bothering you,” she said, sadness in her voice. She began to turn away.

“Wait!” Barbara cried, and before she could think it through she had launched forward and wrapped a hand stupidly around Diana’s wrist, pulling her back around. She got a pleasant eyeful of tanned skin. Diana was an impressive Grecian mix of muscles and curves, amounting to the most powerful yet sinuous form Barbara had ever seen. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you.” Barbara looked away, dropping Diana’s wrist.

Diana laughed. “I don’t mind your touch, Barbara. Actually, quite to the contrary…” She stepped forward.

Barbara stepped back.

Diana sighed. “These are some very mixed signals, Ann.” She said, vexed yet seemingly without frustrating toward Barbara herself.

“You know, you just started calling me that one day. No one else calls me Ann. It’s my middle name,” Barbara said irrelevantly. Diana smiled.

“I wanted to give you a special nickname; I feel that there is a special bond between us,” Diana said.

It invoked memories of her and Diana studying artifacts, laughing about ancient history and trading knowledge. She had always been amazed at the sheer font of information Diana possessed, yet when she asked where Diana studied, she would evade her questions.

She never gave a direct answer; that was part of what made her so terrifying. Barbara felt so close to her, yet she knew so little about her. It made Diana seem insubstantial, as if a hard wind could blow her away.

“Of course, we’re friends,” Barbara answered. She sounded strained even to herself.

Diana held out her hand and Barbara took it. With her other hand, Diana traced her finger along Barbara’s knuckles.

“You’re afraid,” Diana surmised. Barbara watched their hands with a frying concentration. “You have felt the need to hide in fear, as if there should be shame for being who you are?”

“Haven’t you?” Barbara retorted at once, surprised by her own aggression. She pushed up her glasses nervously with her free hand. “I mean, haven’t you ever felt the need to disguise yourself?”

Diana smiled, and something about her smile held a million mysteries. “Yes, I have. I have even purposefully concealed details about myself, things that others would not understand. Do you feel that this bond between us…would be misunderstood?” As she spoke, she traced a finger up Barbara Ann’s arm, making her shiver.

She met Diana’s dark eyes again, appreciating the smokiness of her intense gaze.

“…Yes,” she finally admitted, amounting to her first admission of this attraction she felt. A forbidden attraction.

Diana stepped in slowly, her movements precise and gentle to the point that Barbara could pull away if she felt the impulse. Diana slowly put a hand on Barbara’s cheek, bringing their faces so close their noses nearly touched. Barbara could feel their chests brushing together as Diana wrapped one arm around her, holding her tight.

Diana’s breath warmed her lips when she spoke. “Me too, Barbara.” She said, her intense gaze fluttering away. Then she was turning her face just enough to bring their lips together in a soft, warm kiss. Barbara shut her eyes too, the gentle music of the dulcimer running through her mind.

She put her hands on Diana’s waist, not really surprised by the softness of her skin. She found a large scar on Diana’s back.

“I would ask how you got this, but you would just evade the question,” Barbara teased in the form of their usual banter, and Diana stopped to laugh. The sound overran the symphony of the dulcimer and—in Barbara’s mind—was far superior.

Diana kissed Barbara’s cheek. “One day, I will tell you. Soon, Ann,” she said, and that was enough to mend it for now.

They took it slow, a gentle exploration. Barbara was curious, Diana was practiced. They found an empty room with a ceiling constructed of glass. It let in the sunlight, dyed green by the jungle leaves and vines that stretched over the top. They shared a blue loveseat that was big enough to accommodate them both comfortably.

There was no pressure, no end goal, just the two of them. Barbara had never felt more at ease. At the same time, she had never felt more riveted. She knew deep down that this wasn’t simply because she had never had an opportunity to explore her attraction toward women before; this was something deeper, an endogenous draw toward Diana, as undeniable as gravity.

She was completely lovestruck, and yet there was something casual in the way Diana touched her. That casual touch could have been her imagination, insecurity, or…

A bad sign.

Barbara’s heart pounded even though they took it slow, gently, and there was no reason to feel panicked. Even when neither of them were moving any longer, Barbara held onto Diana, her heart lurching with the belief that her enigma of a friend might get up, slip away, disappear.

Diana perceived Barbara’s tight grip as affection, and she stroked Barbara’s blonde curls lovingly, kissing her forehead.

“We have made many good discoveries on this trip, not all of them archeological,” Diana’s gorgeous eyes danced with her wit. She wanted Barbara to laugh.

Barbara forced a smile. “Hopefully, we’ll make good archeological finds as well.”

_Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t leave me_ …

How to say it without sounding absolutely clingy?

“This is a place of relaxation, pleasure. Yet, your muscles are tense…have I failed to—“

“You did nothing wrong!” Barbara interjected, surprising Diana with her outburst. She winced at herself, looking away, but Diana gently nudged her with a touch on her chin, turning her to face her again.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong,” Diana implored with such dignity that it made Barbara cringe further at her own awkwardness.

Barbara inhaled shakily. “I just…I’ve been hurt before, you know?” She could think of the names, God help her. _Keith, William, Mitt…_

“I would not hurt you on purpose,” Diana seemed mildly affronted by the prospect.

Barbara shook her head. “I know that. I just can’t shake that worry.”

Diana nodded. “I can understand that. Leaving things behind can be so difficult.” She took on a faraway look for a moment, before her gaze drifted back to Barbara’s eyes. She brushed a bit of hair back from Barbara’s forehead, a tender motion that made Barbara feel safer. “I…I have been purposely obscure. It was never because I distrusted or disliked you, Ann, I just wanted to protect myself.”

“I understand that,” Barbara assured her, interlocking their fingers together. Diana kissed her shoulder, and Barbara settled in closer, putting her weight on Diana and smiling down at her. She was lovely beyond reason, almost to the point of being infuriating. Barbara had the sudden urge to kiss her nose, and she did so, making Diana giggle.

“You are silly,” Diana said, clearly approving. She pondered for a moment, then added, “Would it help your anxiety if I told you a bit more about my past?”

Barbara lit up at once. Apparently, her enthusiastic expression was so obvious that she didn’t need to supply an actual answer; Diana laughed, shaking her head.

“Very well. I just…we will start small,” Diana kissed the back of Barbara’s hand, their hands still interlocked together. “I have been in love once before. A man named Steve Trevor.”

“What happened?” Barbara asked, instantly fascinated. She tried to imagine a man who had Diana’s heart; all she could picture were Hollywood heart throbs, but that didn’t feel right for some reason.

“He died,” Diana said, suddenly sullen. “It still hurts.” She admitted.

Barbara thought of her past, the three men who had jumped to her mind. “I’ve been in love before. All the time, it feels like. And it hurts so badly anytime it has to end, even if it wasn’t that great in the meantime.”

Diana’s gaze flicked to her and she smiled. She touched Barbara’s cheek lovingly. “Steve was great. You are great.”

She kissed Barbara gently, and the warmth of joy spread through her chest.

The anxiety slipped away, like flowers scattered in a rill.


	2. The Cheetah

2.

It had been so long since Diana was last here.

She closed her eyes, basking for a moment in the dulcet serenading her, drawing her farther into this mysterious building. Belonging to a wealthy ruler, the pleasure-dome served as a place of leisure and jollification, resulting in peace and union throughout a jungle previously torn by warring tribes.

Stepping within the structure, Diana was struck by the beauty within. Devoid of violence and sadness, filled with laughing faces and easy going conversations. A threat of pain made Diana pause, placing a hand over her heart; it was the same feeling she got when she visited Steve Trevor’s gravesite.

Or when she crossed the Lost City they had discovered a mere two days after their trip to the pleasure-dome. The memory was still so fresh, but Diana resisted reliving it.

She had to face the fact that Barbara was in Urzkartaga’s hold now; she had failed to protect her. Diana felt a sadness that conflicted with her surroundings, and she stopped to pluck a plump grape from a gleaming silver tray. She crushed it between her teeth, enjoying the way the sweet juice flowed over her tongue, and remembered the way Barbara’s hands had felt on her skin.

Barbara, with her peachy skin and frizzy blonde curls and bright, intelligent blue eyes, peering out behind those golden-rimmed glasses. Diana missed her lack of brevity, the way everything she felt and thought was reflected on that expressive face.

Urzkartaga had robbed her of all of that was his despicable curse. Diana took a handful of grapes and enjoyed the feeling of destroying them between her teeth.

“Pretty Princess?”

That voice—a cold hiss usually, but now soft and taken aback with surprise—Diana whirled around in response, eyes widening as she found her standing there. She nearly fell backwards against the table as Barbara stared at her with those strange eyes.

She had changed so much. Her skin was a mix of inhuman orange and yellow, comprising the visual of a cheetah even without the dark spots that dotted her skin. Even with the undeniable facial markings of a cheetah, Barbara’s facial structure was elegant and pretty. It was difficult to see that she was a violent hunter beneath Urzkartaga’s spell, until the moment she opened her mouth and revealed those long fangs, or unleashed her retractable claws, which were closer to talons.

Even her eyes—once baby blue—had faded into a muted, stony gray, as distant and despotic as storm clouds.

Usually, Barbara wore scanty clothes, with jewelry symbolic of her ties to Urzkartaga. But now, she stood bare, and Diana could certainly see that—much to her relief—some things had not changed.

Barbara put a hand on her hip. “Are you just going to gawk?” She asked.

The attitude had only appeared after the curse. Diana took a moment to recover. “I just…you were the last person I expected to see.” The hope in her voice wounded even her. Barbara looked at the ground, a bit of her old self showing through as she seemed to linger on Diana’s words.

But, just like that, Barbara pivoted away from that connection. “I suppose you think I don’t deserve to be here? As Urzkartaga’s possession, I technically shouldn’t be indulging myself in…petty pleasures.” As she spoke, Barbara strode toward Diana, seemingly aware of the effect her presence had. She leaned on the table, picking up one of the grapes Diana had left behind and popping it into her mouth. She cringed and ran her tongue over her sharp teeth. “Yeah, fruit doesn’t really do it for me anymore. I used to love grapes. Urzkartaga really is a bitch.”

Diana almost laughed, but couldn’t quite get herself to enjoy the joke. “Barbara Ann, you’re here.” It was all she could think to say. She wouldn’t take her eyes off of Barbara even if the world started ending behind her.

Barbara’s gaze shifted away from her, suddenly becoming sly. “Are you just going to state the obvious again and again? I would have thought we’d be past simple fact by now.”

Diana ignored the reproach. She smiled instead. “Urzkartaga is allowing you here?”

Barbara stood up straight, meeting Diana’s gaze with ferocity as she looked up into her eyes. “What’s he going to do to stop me? As far as brides go, I was quite sullied before he and I had our ‘union’. So what does it matter if I play around now?” Barbara tilted her head. “Besides, aren’t you the one who always says that Urzkartaga doesn’t punish me for my indiscretions, but because of his innate cruelty?”

“I suppose I am,” Diana admitted.

Barbara stepped forward, leaning into Diana’s faze. Her gray eyes crackled with electricity, seeming suddenly amber from his close vantage point. “Then, in that case, I’m going to enjoy my extramarital activities. And wouldn’t this be the place to do so—“

Before she could finish the thought, Diana gave into the urge she’d been fighting and crashed into Barbara, pulling her into her embrace and pressing their lips together. Barbara kissed back with a ferocity that nearly knocked Diana off-balance, and suddenly she was tugging Diana’s long curls, pushing her backwards, taking an assertive role Diana had never previously associated with Barbara.

“You’ve changed,” Diana smirked, unruffled even as Barbara pinned her to the table. Food and drinks spilled easily, but no one stopped to chastise them or even shoot them glares.

“You don’t even have the decency to seem surprised,” Barbara countered, staring at Diana as if she despised wanting her. “Part of my curse is a taste for blood. I would be careful if I were you, amazon.”

As Barbara spoke, she stroked through Diana’s curls. Diana felt her heart beat pick up, the excitement mingled with an edge of fear; she had felt many times the ferocity and power Cheetah possessed in battle, and she knew Barbara was, in many ways, her formidable rival.

Diana kissed Barbara then, a hand on each of her cheeks, the kiss gentle but probing. She nicked her tongue on one of Barbara’s ultra-sharp fangs, and pulled away quickly before too much of the blood could feel Barbara’s mouth. Barbara’s pupils went blown-out, like a cat confronted with catnip, and she stared at Diana with a hunger that transcended attraction.

“I warned you about my curse,” Barbara said. Diana felt her arms tense, as if she were ready to cross them before her in defense of herself.

Instead, Barbara dropped her hold on her and strode quickly off through the party. She trod right over two men entangled on the floor, making out. They didn’t even bother to protest her rudeness, just continued with their ministrations.

Diana took a moment to compose herself, running a hand through her wild hair and pressing her fingertips to her chest. Beneath her skin, she could feel her heart racing still, with fear, fight or flight adrenaline, and…

… _excitement_.

Diana looked up, but Barbara was nowhere in-sight. She knew immediately that she had to find her again, right now, and hold her in her arms. Even if she crashed hard—even if the resulting grief at losing her thrust her into despondency that rivaled what she went through after losing Steve—she had to have her.

She was compelled toward Barbara, again and again, like a magnet.

And, _gods_ , the memories of her Barbara’s first time here, the paramount of romance and the giddy warmth of her arms.

Everything about it had been so kind, a light and soft breeze, pacifying her. Fingers soft on skin like pink flowers scatted in a rill.

Barbara was waiting on the same blue love seat, stretched out comfortably. She was thin but sumptuous, her already idiosyncratic Cheetah appearance enhanced by the drifty sunny spots, diluted green by the jungle leaves and vines. They cast spots of greenery on her skin.

“Kept me waiting, didn’t you, princess?” She spat the word.

Diana knew that Barbara took her previous secrets as a rebuke. How could she explain that she had intended to eventually tell her about her double life as Wonder Woman? She never meant for Barbara to become cursed, she had always planned on them having more time…

She had planned to have more time with Steve as well, and that hadn’t worked out either. She had wasted enough time, with him and Barbara both.

“I won’t have you wait on me forever, Barbara,” Diana said, her eyes blazing with sincerity. “I will save you from that scum of a god. I’ll pry Urzkartaga’s hold on you from his dead fingers—“

“Whoa,” Barbara cut her off, sitting up. She wore a languid, seductive smile. “Save me your usual speech, pretty princess. I can think of better uses for that mouth.”

Diana came to her then, unable to wait any longer. Barbara wanted to appear vicious, but Diana saw that she was careful with her mouth—never wanting to draw blood and tempt herself, her curse, to take a bite—and that her claws were fully retracted so as to protect Diana.

Still, she wasn’t nearly as gentle; her touch was ravenous to the point of fervid aggression, even frenzied at time. Her hands and her gaze never left Diana’s, and Diana similarly couldn’t bear to loosen her hold on Barbara even by a margin. She wanted to stay locked in this embrace—in this moment—for the rest of her immortal life.

She realized only afterwards that Barbara continued to touch her, like a lifeline. She remembered Barbara’s previous anxiety, her unspoken words indicated by what she said, her expressions, her actions— _don’t leave me_ —and wondered if Barbara felt that way now.

Barbara was staring up at the glass above her, her expression distant and unreadable. Diana pressed her lips to Barbara’s cheeks, and Barbara looked to her.

“My Ann,” she said in a short whisper, ignoring the fact that Barbara wasn’t hers, but Urzkartaga’s. “Even now, so beautiful. Soul and body.” She placed a hand on Barbara’s chest and felt the way her heartbeat raced, as fast as a river disappearing into a chasm.

“You turn phrases like a poet,” Barbara said, her snide remark an attempt at reestablishing the distance between them. Diana ignored that attempt, holding Barbara to her instead, kissing her gently on her cheek. Showing her what she so desperately needed to see; that there was still an abundance of love for her in Diana’s heart.

Barbara sank into her suddenly, resting her head on Diana’s chest and wrapping her arms around her waist. The hug was so soft, so gentle, that for a heart-wrenching second all Diana could visualize was blue eyes, a bright smile, all the things that had been ripped away from her by that monster Urzkartaga.

“Thank you, Diana,” Barbara said. And Diana would have preferred more—sonnets and sonnets of words, romance, confessions of love—but she knew that as long as Urzkartaga was in the back of Barbara’s mind, she could never have it.

Instead, she placed a hand on Barbara’s head, feeling her sleek blonde hair. She no longer had curls; her frizzy, lively hair had been flattened by the curse.

“This reminds me of a poem,” Diana said, seemingly irrelevantly. Barbara pushed on her so that she went from sitting to lying back, the two of them lying entangled together. She stared at Diana expectantly.

“Don’t leave me waiting again, princess. What’s the poem?” Barbara demanded. Diana closed her eyes; she smiled.

“It is about beauty. Beauty, love, peace, pleasure…cruelty and violence. The way these things roll together, interwoven, like two streams meeting and becoming a waterfall.” As Diana spoke, she interlocked her fingers with Barbara’s. Barbara stared up at her expectantly.

“It sounds beautiful. What’s it called?”

Diana let out a laugh. “You’ll hardly believe me.”

“Tell me,” Barbara insisted, poking Diana in a teasing way, and finally, Diana relented.

She recited for Barbara the poem that weighed heavy on her mind; the poem that reflected the two of them in its own way. When she had finished, she looked to Barbara, who rested her head on Barbara’s chest.

After a delay, she sighed. “I don’t get poetry. You know I preferred plain-spoken books,” Barbara said.

Diana toyed with her hair. “I know,” She admitted.

“You’ve always been taken with needless extravagance. Figures, you little princess,” Barbara mumbled into Diana’s chest, sitting up suddenly.

Diana sensed that she was leaving. She stomped down the urge to ask Barbara to stay; that would be unfair, as they both knew she needed to leave. Before Diana could make a loving gesture, however, Barbara leaned in, putting their foreheads together. She had her eyes closed, so Diana followed suit.

“You’re beautiful, too, Diana. And sometimes I hate you—I hate that you save everyone, but can’t save me—but deep down, I never truly blame you.” When she pulled back, there were tears in her eyes. Diana felt tears of her own well up, but Barbara was gone before she could say anything in response to her admission.

She was stunned, yet she was also calmed and comforted, even though Barbara was no longer there to provide a reassuring touch. That was because Barbara had provided her something better even then physical comfort.

Barbara had told her a beautiful Truth.

**Kubla Khan**

By: Samuel Taylor Coleridge

_Or, a vision in a dream. A Fragment._

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girdled round;

And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,

Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;

And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,

As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,

A mighty fountain momently was forced:

Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst

Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:

And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

It flung up momently the sacred river.

Five miles meandering with a mazy motion

Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,

Then reached the caverns measureless to man,

And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;

And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far

Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure

Floated midway on the waves;

Where was heard the mingled measure

From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer

In a vision once I saw:

It was an Abyssinian maid

And on her dulcimer she played,

Singing of Mount Abora.

Could I revive within me

Her symphony and song,

To such a deep delight ’twould win me,

That with music loud and long,

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there,

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread

For he on honey-dew hath fed,

And drunk the milk of Paradise.


End file.
